Three
by PurpleBeanbagProductions
Summary: The Game is on again. But will Sherlock win this time around? And who is this strange man and why does he need help finding a blue box?
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

**Disclaimer- I own nothing, but praise those who do =)**

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><p><span>Chapter 1- Prologue<span>

No stars were visible that night. The only light came from further down the docks, where men could be heard loading cargo onto a ship. The sky was filled with fat black clouds, threatening to burst and drown the city. The wind coming off the water was bitterly cold. A figure sat huddled in the shadows, leant against stacks of crates.

That had been close. Too close. He'd almost been _seen_. It had been three days since he'd crashed, and his injuries hadn't fully healed yet. He'd killed three humans, but he needed more in order to keep up his strength. However, he couldn't risk drawing too much attention, not before he'd found help. Nothing of his ship had survived the crash; it had all fried upon entering the atmosphere, or been destroyed on impact. He couldn't even send a distress signal. _Not that it would probably be answered, no one would be in this remote part of space unnecessarily, _he thought bitterly. He sighed inwardly and adjusted his cloak again. A few more days, then he would have enough strength to explore, try to find some help, or at least some parts to make a transmitter, to send a message to someone. He froze as he heard sounds. Footsteps, coming from nearby. _Hopefully they won't come around here._ The footsteps came closer. _No such luck._

"Hello~," called a voice. _Silence_. "Now really, that's just plain rude. I know you're there, so why don't you come on out? I just want to have a little chat, that's all."

He debated with himself for a few minutes, before deciding maybe this human would help him. He would see what he had to say, and if things turned ugly, he could always kill him. He had enough strength to overcome a single human. He got stiffly to his feet, and walked out from behind the crates towards the human, pulling his cowl forward to hide his face. The human stood a few metres away with a bemused smile on his face. The man didn't seem particularly threatening, so he allowed himself to relax a little.

"There you are. I must say, you're a hard man to find. Well, I say man..." he paused, as if expecting an answer. When he didn't receive one, he sighed and continued. "I'll just get straight to the point then, shall I? I've seen your work , and it's good. Very good, in fact. So, I'd like you to come and work for me. Do as I say, kill who I tell you to kill, and in return I'll offer you protection. Somewhere a bit nicer than a bunch of mouldy old crates to live. So, what do you say? Shall we go?" He turned and began to walk away.

"And what if I choose to say no?" he asked warily.

The man stopped, then turned back around slowly, grinning. Suddenly he seemed a _lot_ more threatening. Dozens of red dots were dancing over his body.

"My _dear_, who said anything about having a _choice_?"


	2. Chapter 2 Prologue

Chapter 2- Prologue

A buzzing noise rang throughout the flat, then stopped. Then started again. Then stopped again. It did this several more times, and was beginning to grate on John's nerves. He hurled a pillow at his dozing flatmate's head, who started in surprise.

"Sherlock, you're phone is ringing," stated John as calmly as he could.

"An excellent observation John," drawled the detective, settling back on the couch, completely ignoring the phone, which promptly rang out.

"That's the eighth time he's rung," John said through gritted teeth. His patience was wearing thin.

"I am aware of that John."

"Do you think you could answer it? Or at least turn it off so I don't have to listen to it?" Sherlock scoffed.

"And what if Lestrade rings with a case? If my phone is off then he won't be able to contact me and let me know. Really John, do try to _think_ sometimes."

John was about ready to throttle his flatmate, and so got up with the intention of making a cup of tea, to calm himself down.

"Milk," Sherlock said sharply.

"Sorry?"

"In my tea, John. Do I have to spell everything out for you? You really are being exceptionally dense today."

Whatever John was about to say was interrupted by the renewed buzzing coming from the coffee table. John finally snapped.

"Alright, that's it!" he yelled, snatching up the phone and hitting 'answer'.

"Hello? Mycroft, how are you? Yes we're fine. Yeah, he's right here, I'll put him on." He held the phone out towards a slightly mortified-looking Sherlock, glaring at him in an attempt to convey that he would pin Sherlock down and hold the phone to his ear if that's what it took, he was taking this call! Sherlock glared right back, but seemed to get the message and very reluctantly took the phone from John.

"Mycroft," he said curtly, watching John disappear into the kitchen. "No I-, no I've already told you I'm not interested. Now do stop calling, you're irritating John." And with that he hung up.

"What was that all about?" called John from the kitchen, where he was finishing making the tea.

"He wants my help, though I honestly can't see what for."

John walked back into the living room with the two cups of tea. He handed one to Sherlock, then settled back into his chair, warming his hands on the cup.

"Why don't you just see what he wants? It's been weeks since your last case."

"It's hardly a case John."

"Oh?"

"You know that incident three days ago? It was in all the newspapers. They're saying a piece of space junk fell to Earth-"

"Ah."

"Ah?"

"I can see why you don't want to take the case. It's to do this space. Not really your area, is it?" John smirked into his tea. Sherlock glared at him.

"No, John. The reason I don't want to take the case is because I don't want to be caught between a bunch of boring officials trying to push the blame onto each other. I really don't see why Mycroft would need me, he's perfectly capable of dealing with the situation by himself."

"Right."

_Silence._

"So not because you have no knowledge of anything space-related."

"No."

_Silence._

"You're never going to let go of that whole 'solar system' thing are you?"

"Nope."

Sherlock scowled and John chuckled quietly to himself.

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><p>A man rode his bike down a quiet side street in London, dodging a news stand as he rounded the corner, oblivious to the sudden whirring, grating noise that filled the air, or the blue Police Box that faded into existence. The door swung open, and a tall girl with long red hair stepped out, followed by a shy-looking young man. Both were dressed rather inappropriately for the cool London weather. She looked around with a frown, and placed her hands on her hips.<p>

"Doctor!" she yelled.

"...yes, beautiful beaches, lovely weather, sunny sunny-" the man paused as he reached the door. "London?" He took off his sunglasses and stepped out into the street, spinning around to look at everything in a peculiar fashion before walking back into the TARDIS, closing the door, then opening it again, as if expecting the scene to have changed. When it didn't, he walked up to the girl.

"Amy, this isn't Chebae, what have you done?" he asked her suspiciously.

"Me!" she shot back incredulously. "_I_ haven't done anything! _You _promised us beaches and blue skies. _This_," she gestured at the grey London sky, "is _not_ my idea of beach weather!"

The Doctor hummed thoughtfully, then grinned and spun around on his heels.

"Well, since we're here, might as well look around." He made to walk off, but Amy stopped him, yanking the large sombrero he was wearing off his head and throwing it inside the TARDIS.

"Hey! Sombreros are cool!" he pouted.

"Not in London, they're not," countered Amy. She had a point, he would stand out quite a bit sporting a sombrero around the streets of London.

"Well, anyway. London! 2011, NO! 12. Yes, definitely 2012."

"Oooo, the future. Anything good happen?"

"No, not really. In spite of all those ridiculous rumours of the world ending, bit of a boring year actually. BUT! I'm sure we'll find something interesting. Or it will find us." He turned and strode purposefully down the street.

"It generally does when he's around," muttered Rory, as he and Amy jogged to catch up.

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><p>"Doctor, we've been walking for an hour now! What <em>exactly<em> are we looking for?" grumbled Amy.

"Hm?" The Doctor looked around in surprise, seemingly having forgotten the couple were still with him. "Not looking for anything _exactly_. Just looking," he replied, before turning and continuing walking. Amy and Rory exchanged a look.

"You mean we've been following you around all this time for no reason?"

"I never said you had to follow me."

"Right then," announced Rory, turning to Amy. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Does it count as a date if we're married?"

"Does it matter?"

"Great," grinned the Doctor. "You two go off and have fun. Maybe some lunch. I'll meet you back at the TARDIS later." And with that he turned and walked away. Rory and Amy watched him disappear around a corner.

"Hungry?"

"Starving!"

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><p>The Doctor walked back the way he had come that morning. He'd meant to have a look around. Something was <em>definitely<em> going on around here. He _knew_ it. It was floating in the periphery of his mind; he just couldn't quite grasp it. He sighed, continuing past the news stand and into the street where he'd left the TARDIS. After leaving the couple he'd had a brilliant idea. _No Amy!_ No Amy insulting his fashion choices. He couldn't forget the cruel end his Fez had met at the hands of Amy and River. _I should get a new one while I'm here,_ he thought with a grin. His grin widened at the thought of the many hats, scarves, and other items in the TARDIS just calling for him to wear out. _Stetson,_ he decided. _I should wear a Stetson_. His grin faded as he reached the place where the TARDIS was. _Was_ being the operative word, as the TARDIS was no longer there. He walked up and down the street a few times, then plucked his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled Amy's number. It rang three times before she picked up.

"Amy!" he said, putting on his most cheerful voice. "Listen, about the TARDIS..."


	3. Chapter 3 Waiting

Chapter 3- Waiting

Sherlock glared at the three nicotine patches on his left arm. _Maybe this is a four-patch problem_, he mused. Unfortunately he only had three patches left. He'd have to make John buy him some more on his way home from work. He snatched his phone off the table and sent him a text.

_Need more patches. NOW. SH_

After five minutes of silence he tossed his phone onto the floor with a scowl. John obviously wasn't going to reply.

He lay back on the couch and steepled his fingers, getting into his 'thinking pose' as John called it. He let his mind wander over the facts of the case. The killings had started two weeks ago. Three bodies had been found with identical injuries; large chest wound, no heart, no blood. It was as if someone had ripped open their chests and drained them of every drop of blood. _But how?_ None of the victims were connected, but were found in the same area, so killings of convenience. Wrong place, wrong time. _But why?_ Then the fourth body was found with a calling card. _Come out and play. M._ A few days later another body had been found with a note. An _apology. Sorry my dear, a lot going on in the big bad world. But don't think I've forgotten you. _Then a clue.

83.886/2 5.6/7- 7/3.96.9/95 2/7-6.83.8

He'd solved the clue easily enough, a combination of phone code and picket fence code. They'd found the victim, tied up, bloodied and bruised in his own home. _Alive._ John had been relieved about that, to finally save someone. So had Lestrade. He hadn't really cared (The man was useless. He couldn't remember anything. A small spot on the side of his neck told Sherlock he'd been drugged, but even now he seemed to have no recollection of that day). Besides, _caring_ didn't help. _Caring_ didn't solve the puzzles. _Caring_ didn't get him any closer to Moriarty. And now he was _waiting_. Waiting for Moriarty to contact him with another riddle, or for Lestrade to tell him they'd found another body. Waiting for John to come home with his patches.

A buzzing noise broke his reverie and he fumbled around the floor for his phone. It was a text from John.

_I don't finish work until five, get them yourself. JW_

He dropped his phone onto the floor and glanced up at the skull on the mantelpiece.

"What are _you_ looking at?" he growled, before curling up on the couch.

He _hated_ waiting.


	4. Chapter 4 Lost

Chapter 4- Lost

John trudged up the stairs, putting down his bags to unlock the door. Why Sherlock couldn't do his own shopping was beyond him. _How on Earth did he mange before I got_ _here?_ he wondered. As he bent down to pick up the groceries he realised the flat was quiet. _Too quiet._ He cautiously entered the flat and shut the door.

"Sherlock?" he called uncertainly. Receiving no reply, he made his way into the kitchen and unpacked the shopping. The cupboards were mercifully free of limbs, as was the kettle, so John went about making himself a cup of tea. He was just settling into his chair with his tea and the paper when he heard a knock at the front door, followed by muffled voices and then two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. Mrs Hudson knocked as she poked her head around the door.

"John dear, there's a young man here to see Sherlock. Is he..." she trailed off when she noticed the lack of detective lazing on the couch. _Great, now that he's off on a case, a client shows up. Where were you two weeks ago when he was driving us all mad? _John thought ruefully. _Still, can't hurt to hear him out._

"It's alright Mrs Hudson, show him in."

She stepped back to let the man past. He was of average height and had longish black hair. However, the tweed jacket and bowtie he was wearing seemed a little odd for someone of his age.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor! You must be John Watson. Pleasure to meet you," he said, all in one breath, offering his hand.

"Um, likewise. How-"

"Sherlock Holmes isn't here, is he? Because I have a problem I was rather hoping he could help with."

"No, he's not, but-"

"You see, I've lost something rather important. Big blue box. Very important that I find it. You haven't seen it, have you?" He looked at John hopefully.

"No I-"

"Pity."

John was beginning to get annoyed. He couldn't get a word in edgewise with this man!

"Well, if you do see it, you'll let me know, won't you?"

"Um, I, sure, but-"

"Great! Brilliant! Look forward to hearing from you." And with that he disappeared out the door, calling out to Mrs Hudson as he left. John stared after him for a few minutes, bewildered, before shaking his head and sitting back down. He went to take a sip of tea, and grimaced, as it had gone cold. He replaced the cup on the table with a sigh, before opening the paper again.

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><p>Amy paced around the hotel room in frustration. They'd been stuck here for two weeks, and she'd had enough. She wanted to <em>go<em>! To travel. She missed the TARDIS. She couldn't even pop back home for a visit, as people might wonder where she and Rory had been for the past year and a bit. _At least we have somewhere to sleep_, she thought. A combination of the psychic paper and a wad of cash the Doctor had pulled out of one of his many bottomless pockets had ensured that. She looked over at Rory, who was sitting quietly in a chair by the window, reading the paper. He seemed to be enjoying this lull in their travels. She jumped at the sudden sound of knocking at their door. She opened the door and the Doctor strode in, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Well?" she cried. "Did you find the TARDIS?"

"No," he replied cheerfully. "But I've found someone who can," he added quickly, as Amy looked like she just might hurl him out the window.

"Who?"

"Sherlock Holmes!"

"Who's he?" The Doctor just gaped at her.

"Sherlock Holmes is one of the greatest detectives to have ever lived! If anyone can find the TARDIS, it's him. So, now that that's taken care of, we can focus on _this_," he said, waving a page of newspaper in front of them.

"A serial killer?" asked Rory, confused.

"There's something just not right about this..." he frowned thoughtfully and was silent for a moment, then shook his head and grinned. "Anyway, I'll see you two in the morning. Goodnight!" And he disappeared out the door.

Amy huffed in frustration and flopped back onto the bed, while Rory went back to his paper.

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><p>Sherlock burst into the flat, causing John to glance up in surprise.<p>

"Where've you been?" he asked, not expecting a reply. He didn't get one, and so shrugged and turned his attention back to the TV. As an afterthought he added, "I got you some more patches, they're-"

"In the cupboard. Yes, obviously," snapped the detective.

John shook his head angrily. _What was this? Interrupt-John-Watson Day?_ Sherlock swept into the room, his arm probably loaded with a ridiculous amount of patches, before stopping dead in the centre of the room.

"Someone was here," he stated, glancing around the room once, then looking at John.

John hummed affirmatively, not taking his eyes off the TV. He'd long since given up asking how Sherlock knew things, and just accepted that he did.

"Who was he?"

"_The Doctor._"

"Doctor Who?"

"Didn't say."

"What did he want?"

"For you to find his missing blue box. Said it was important." Sherlock scoffed.

"Dull, this isn't a lost and found." He sat down in front of The Wall (where he stuck all his case notes up with pins, and, occasionally, knives) and picked up his violin, which, much to John's chagrin, he proceeded to play for the next six hours.


	5. Chapter 5 Puzzled

Chapter 5- Puzzled

John watched as his breath fogged up the window. He briefly considered drawing a smiley face, but decided not to, thinking that the cabdriver may not appreciate it. He glanced over at his flatmate, who was staring out the window, deep in thought. John couldn't help but feel annoyed that Sherlock could look so damn pristine after not having slept for days, while he felt like crap (and probably looked it too) despite the few hours sleep he'd managed between Sherlock giving up on playing his all-night concerto and the detective banging on his door that morning informing him they were going to see Lestrade about a new lead.

They arrived at Scotland Yard and Sherlock walked through like he owned the place, letting himself into Lestrade's office without so much as knocking. John trailed behind him, giving Lestrade a polite nod, which the DI returned before turning to Sherlock.

"So what do you make of it?" Sherlock frowned.

"Make of what? While I am _flattered_ you think so highly of my abilities, I am unable to deduce anything without _facts_. So it would be foolish of me to make theories without having read this morning's paper." He walked around the desk and started flicking through the pages, searching through each article.

"How did you know about the article if you haven't read the paper?" Lestrade queried, bewildered.

"This newspaper isn't the one you normally read. It is sitting in the middle of your desk, over all the other case notes, which shows me you've recently been reading it. Some of the pages are still stuck together meaning that you weren't casually reading it, you knew what you were looking for, and opened straight to that page. This is also supported by the fact that the other sections of the paper _not_ containing the article have been discarded." He gestured to the pile of papers on the floor. "Furthermore, most desks I passed on the way in have this newspaper on them somewhere."

"Brilliant," breathed John. The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched up, but was quickly replaced with a frown as he found the article he was searching for. John moved to stand next to him and he pushed the paper between them, so they could both read it. The headline read '_Serial Killer Leaves Yard Puzzled'_ and was accompanied by a small but rather graphic photo of the latest victim.

"Bet there's been a lot of complaints about that," stated John.

"Yes, that's how our attention was drawn to it. The newspaper said they had nothing to do with it though. No doubt the journalist, Miss," he consulted his notes. "Joyerst will be looking for a new job." Sherlock stared at him in disbelief.

"Are you really that blind? There is no _Miss Joyerst_. I mean, really, Maria M. Joyerst?"

"James Moriarty," said John quietly. The others looked at him in surprise. He mentally checked off the letters again, just to be sure. "If you rearrange the letters it spells _James Moriarty_."

Sherlock smiled at him, looking quite proud of John for working it out. Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So Moriarty has contacts in the newspaper, gets them to print this article. For what though? To taunt us?"

"No, it's a clue. He's telling us where the body is..." Sherlock trailed off as he examined the photo thoroughly. John read the article again.

_"A dangerous serial killer remain at large. Late last night a body was found in a home in London's southwest, bringing the count up to three. Police have no new leads. They are no closer to catching this murderer or solving this puzzle."_

"I have police in the area on alert but-"

"They won't find anything."

"Well I can't just sit back and do nothing!" yelled Lestrade in frustration.

"This is sick. These people are being killed as part of some game for Moriarty's entertainment," spat John in disgust.

"Oh!" breathed Sherlock, his eyes growing wide and bright. He dropped down to the pile of papers on the floor and started rifling through them, then darted out of the room. From the sound of rustling papers they guessed he was going through the papers on the other desks. He swept back into the room, holding a page of newspaper, followed by a rather annoyed Sergeant Donovan. He placed the page on the desk, then held out his hand towards John, without taking his eyes off it.

"Pen," he demanded.

"Sherlock, there are half a dozen pens on the desk right- oh forget it." He wasn't in the mood to argue, and so pulled a pen out of his pocket and threw it at the detective who caught it (without even looking, bloody show-off) and proceeded to fill in the Cryptic Crossword.

"_Oi_, Freak, if you've got time to fill in other people's crosswords, maybe you could work on the case," Sally snapped, receiving a disapproving frown from Lestrade.

"Puzzles," was his short reply.

"What-" she started, but he cut her off.

"Puzzles! The article said it twice. Could have used any other word, but chose to use puzzles. Chose to write it twice. That's the clue." Sherlock let out a long-suffering sigh at Lestrade and Donovan's confused faces, but John quickly jumped in before Sherlock could further insult them.

"So if you solve the crossword, you'll find where the body is hidden?" Sherlock grinned at him and he couldn't help grinning back. He loved this smile, the one Sherlock seemed to reserve just for him when he'd done something clever.

"See how some boxes are shaded grey? Those ones are the clues. O-A-K-W-O-O-D-C-O-U-R-T. There, you're looking for Oakwood Court."

"Which house?"

"1079." Before they could ask he explained, "The puzzle number, 1079".

"Right then, let's head over there."

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><p>"Doctor! Do you have to read that at the table? I'm trying to eat here," grumbled Amy, trying to find room for her plate and cup on the table, which the Doctor had covered with the newspaper. She eventually gave up and sat at the next table, Rory following suit. "Besides, <em>that's<em> putting me off my breakfast," she added, pointing to a small picture of a murder victim. The Doctor hummed absent-mindedly but continued reading anyway.

"Can I have the crossword at least?" tried Rory. The Doctor hummed again and handed over the section of the paper, still reading. Amy pouted while her two boys looked over their respective pages, then almost spilled her tea down her front as the Doctor cried out, snatching the crossword back off Rory.

"Oi! I was doing that!" he protested, but the Doctor ignored him, and continued to fill in the crossword quite a bit faster than Rory had been. When he'd finished he wrote down an address on his hand, then grinned at them.

"Oakwood Court," he said triumphantly, then frowned. "Where is that?" Rory pulled out his phone and opened an internet browser.

"What's the street number?"

"1079." Rory typed it in and a few seconds later a map popped up.

"Excellent! That's not too far from here. Come on then," he stood up suddenly, almost tipping over the table in his excitement.

"Where are we going?" asked Amy, raising an eyebrow.

"To investigate," grinned the Doctor.

"Finally! Some adventure! What are we investigating?"

"This," he replied, holding up the gruesome article. "The address was hidden in the crossword puzzle."

"Who leaves hidden messages in newspaper articles?" frowned Rory.

"Good question. Shall we go and find out?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Amy.

"Right then, let's head over there."


	6. Chapter 6 Sherlock Who?

**Hi all**

**I've added a bit extra to the second scene. Let me know what you think, or if you think it still needs more. **

**~PBP**

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><p><span>Chapter 6- Sherlock Who? <span>

The Doctor, Amy and Rory arrived at the house as the area was been taped off by police. A crowd of curious neighbours and passers-by had already formed, and police were trying to move them along.

"Wait here," instructed the Doctor, before bounding off towards the tape. One of the officers saw him and cut him off.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir. This is a crime scene."

The Doctor put on his most charming smile and said, "I was just hoping I could pop in and have a look around is all. Miss?".

"_Constable _Jones," she corrected. "And I'm sorry, sir, but you can't be here".

"My apologies, PC Jones, I'll think you find I can," he replied cheerfully, holding up his psychic paper in front of her face. The officer tensed upon reading the name written.

"Of course, Mr Holmes," she said tersely. "DI Lestrade called and said to expect you. Although I thought he was coming with you?"

"Yes, well, he had to, um, pick up some stuff so I came ahead of him. I'm sure he'll be here any minute. In fact, that's probably him coming now," said the Doctor, as police sirens could be heard in the distance. The officer eyed him suspiciously, but he just grinned at her.

"So...may I see the crime scene now?" Reluctantly she lifted the tape and escorted him into the house.

* * *

><p><strong>SHERLOCK POV<strong>

Sherlock was out of the car before Lestrade had turned the engine off. He strode over to the police tape, but was cut off by a police officer.

"Please move along, sir, this is a crime scene".

"Yes, and I'm here to see the body".

"I'm sorry, _sir_, only those with the police-"

"Well, _miss_-"

"_Constable_".

"Irrelevant. I _am_ with the police. I believe Lestrade told you we would be coming".

"And who are you then? Sherlock Holmes".

"Yes". The constable looked taken aback.

"No," she said uncertainly.

"I am aware of my own identity. I _am _Sherlock Holmes". His patience was wearing thin.

"Well, I'm telling you, you can't be".

**JOHN POV**

John climbed out the backseat after Sally and made to follow Sherlock. To his dismay the detective had _already_ managed to piss someone off. He heard Lestrade mutter something under his breath as they jogged over to Sherlock.

"...and I'm telling you, you're wrong. Now get out of my way," snapped Sherlock, although John didn't miss the hint of...amusement? He caught Sherlock's glance and gave him a quizzical look. Sherlock's face remained impassive, but his eyes were bright with some new information. John was about to ask, but Lestrade beat him to it.

"What's going on here?" he demanded. This was aimed more at Sherlock than the unfortunate Constable he'd been arguing with.

"This woman won't let me through. She doesn't believe I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"Well of course your bloody Sherlock Holmes!"

"Why don't you believe him?" John directed at the Constable. She looked quite uncomfortable under Sherlock's intense gaze.

"Because Sherlock Holmes was already here!" John's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"Interesting," muttered the detective to himself. "And what evidence did this man have to support your belief of his identity?"

"Well, his ID said '_Sherlock Holmes'_ and he matched your description. Tall, dark hair, bit odd." At this Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. "And when he was looking over the body, he kept muttering things to himself. Strange deductions."

"God, _another_ Sherlock, that's all we need," muttered Sally. The detective didn't seem to hear her, but John did, and was about to tell her off when Sherlock cut him off.

"Well, now that we've established who I am, I'll be going up to the crime scene. Come along John," he called as he strolled towards the house. John tucked under the tape and fell into step next to him.

"Donovan, get a description of this mystery man and run it," said Lestrade wearily.

"You think this Sherlock-impersonator is our guy?"

"We haven't got much to go on at the moment. This guy's our best lead". Sally nodded and pulled out her notepad. Lestrade wandered over to the house and was surprised to find Sherlock already coming out.

"Sherlock-" he began uncertainly, but one look at the detective's face told him not to interrupt. Whatever clue Sherlock had been hoping for, he obviously hadn't found it. John smiled at him apologetically has he hurried after Sherlock. _That man's a saint_, thought Lestrade, watching the two men duck under the police tape_. How he puts up with Sherlock all day I'll never know._ He turned and walked into the house and up to the crime scene.


	7. Chapter 7 Watching

Chapter 7- Watching

Moriarty glanced at the computer screen and smiled. Sherlock was storming away from the crime scene with his little soldier chasing after him like a lost puppy. A sour look crossed Moriarty's face. He had never been one for pets.

He leaned back in his chair and yawned loudly, stretching his arms above him, before jumping to his feet and walking out of the room. He strolled down the corridor and stopped outside the last door. Swiping his access card, he entered the room and turned on the lights.

_Sherlock has been fun, but now he's become rather boring. _

He walked over to the object in the centre of the room, placing a hand on the side of it.

_Maybe I should eliminate Sherlock. He's had his fun. Besides, now that there's a new player in the game, I don't really _need_ Sherlock anymore. _

He tugged experimentally on the blue door. It didn't budge. A sneer grew on his face, distorting his usually calm features. Why wouldn't his new toy open up? This Police Box facade was obviously disguising some sort of space transportation interior. He'd_ seen_ it appear out of thin air, and so sent some men to pick it up the minute it's owners were out of sight. Just think of all the things he would be able to do, if he could only get inside! Even the best lock-picks in the underworld hadn't been able to crack it.

He turned the lights off, locked the door and walked back down the corridor. As he reached his door he waved and gave a cheerful (if somewhat psychotic) smile to the four men standing guard outside the door at the other end of the corridor. He briefly wondered when the last time he'd fed his _friend_ was. _I really am no good with pets._ He shrugged as he entered the room, sitting down on his computer chair (and spinning around a few times, just because) and drummed his fingers on the keyboard absent-mindedly. Then he pulled up a short video of his mysterious new player. _The Doctor._

_Maybe I could get him to open the box for me._

He slouched forward, his cheek leaning against his hand, then lazily hit replay, and watched the video again.

_"Amy, this isn't Chebae, what have you done?" The Doctor asked the young girl.  
><em>_"Me!" she shot back incredulously. "I haven't done anything! You promised us beaches and blue ski-"_

Moriarty hit pause, a malicious smile forming on his lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter: Sherlock and the Doctor's paths finally cross. <strong>

**Look forward to it =)**

**~PBP**

* * *

><p><em>Hey all<em>

_Sorry I haven't updated in a while, but for some reason I'm unable to upload anything_

_I will try and get this sorted out and get the next chapter up ASAP_

_~PBP_


	8. Chapter 8 Meetings

**Huzzah! I have found a way around the not-being-able-to-upload-ness so enjoy the chapter! It's quite long o.o**

**~PBP**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 8- Meetings<span>

"Sherlock, do you want dinner?"

"Not now John."

"When was the last time you-"

"Not now John!"

"Fine, I'm ordering Chinese. I'll just get your usual, shall I?"

"Not hungry, food slows me down. I'm trying to work."

John sighed and rummaged around the kitchen for the take-away menu, which he eventually found under...you know what, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what _that_ was. He dialled the number and lent back against the wall, watching the detective sitting crossed-legged on the floor scouring the classifieds section of a newspaper. The living room looked like a hurricane had gone through a dozen newsagents, which he supposed was not too far from the truth, considering his flatmate.

He was drawn from his observations by a man at the other end of the phone answering and asking for his order.

"Yes, hello. I'd like to order some take-away please. Um, one-"

"John!" John jumped and nearly dropped the phone at Sherlock's sudden exclamation.

"Be quiet for a minute, I'm on... No, not you, my flatmate. Where was I?"

"John, phone. I need to call Lestrade."

"...one serve of-, Sherlock it's right next to you! Get it yourself! Um... sorry. One serve of-" John looked at Sherlock's face, and realised the game was on (couldn't the game wait until _after_ he'd had dinner?). With a sigh he apologised to the man for wasting his time and hung up. He made his way over to the couch (an impressive feat considering the state of the floor) and sat down, pushing the Union Jack pillow behind him.

"Alright Sherlock, you win. We won't eat. Now, what have you found?"

"This," announced the detective triumphantly, holding up a clipping of an advertisement from someone wanting a dog-sitter. John just stared at him.

"A _dog-sitter_," he said finally. "You're big discovery is some guy wanting a _dog-sitter_." Sherlock frowned.

"Don't be dense John. _Look._ It's the exact same advertisement in each newspaper."

"Well of course it is. They're not going to put a different ad for the same thing in every newspaper". John was annoyed now. And hungry. Not a good combination. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I don't just mean the words. Look at how it's set out." He held up another clipping. "The wording is the same, that's to be expected. But the format is also the same. In different newspapers you would expect it to be spaced differently in order to fit in, but in each newspaper the advertisements are identical". John looked again.

_W a n t e d - S i t t e r_

_I am going away and need someone to_

_look after my darling pet. You will be required_

_to feed him and take him for walks. He does_

_rather hate being locked up, and can be_

_aggressive at times, so you will need to_

_show a firm hand. If interested please_

_telephone Mr Jay Mitiro._

"So, what's the clue this time?" Sherlock said nothing, but looked at John expectantly. He guessed this meant Sherlock wanted _him_ to try and figure it out. He shifted uncomfortably. He hated doing this. He always managed to miss 'everything of importance'. Sherlock was still staring at him.

"Alright, so, the articles all have the same layout, so the clue must be in the layout. If it was in the text then it wouldn't matter."

"Go on."

"The first letters of each line. W-I-L-T-R-A-S-T. Wiltra Street?" Sherlock smiled.

"Very good." John grinned, pleased with himself for working it all out. "Except you missed the most obvious point". John's grin faded. Of _course_ he had. "He signed his name at the bottom".

"What? No he didn't. I mean, I supposed the initials are the same, but you can't get _James Moriarty_ out of _Jay Mitiro_," said John defiantly.

"But you can get _Jim _Moriarty". John frowned.

"No you can't. Even if it's Jim, that's not enough letters. You're still missing an M and an...oh". John clicked; you had to include the _Mr_ as well. Sherlock grinned, then snatched up his phone and shot off a text to Lestrade, telling him about the new address.

* * *

><p>On the cab ride to Wiltra Street John realised something. "How will you know which house?"<p>

"Hmm?" Sherlock glanced over at him.

"The clue didn't mention a house number like last time, so how will you know which house we're looking for?"

"Wiltra Street isn't that long."

"What, so we're going to doorknock then?" he joked. Sherlock said nothing. John frowned, suddenly suspicious.

"Sherlock. We're not _seriously_ doorknocking, are we?" Still Sherlock said nothing. Another thought occurred to him.

"Now when you say 'not that long'-" he paused, certain the detectives' mouth had twitched up, right before he turned to look out the window. "You're a right arse sometimes, you know that," he said, trying to suppress the smile forming on his lips.

"And what would you have said? 'Hello, I don't suppose you've seen any serial killers lurking about?'," smirked the detective. He looked over at John and added, "You would have done it too".

"Yes, I would have". Sherlock grinned and John punched him playfully on the shoulder. " And you would have just watched". They were both still laughing as they pulled up at Wiltra Street.

* * *

><p>When they arrived at the house (turns out it wasn't a long street after all; one house and a couple of warehouses) the area had been sectioned off with police tape. Lestrade was waiting for them, wearing a very serious expression.<p>

"Our imposter is here," stated Sherlock. Lestrade nodded.

"I told the officers let him through if he showed up. We've got him cornered now!" Sherlock hummed thoughtfully as he looked around. _Probably taking note of the position of every bloody leaf and speck of dust_, John mused dryly. He and Lestrade moved towards the house, leaving the detective to his observations.

Sherlock POV

The detective's eyes skimmed over the few people who had stopped to have a look at what was happening (why people stood around watching police stand around at crime scenes he would never know) when his glance fell upon a familiar couple.

-Flashback-

_Sherlock was sitting in a cafe, observing the other patrons to pass the time until his coffee arrived. They were all frightfully dull. _He_ was having an affair, but he feels guilty about it, judging the way he keeps fiddling with his wedding ring in his pocket. Out of sight, but not out of mind. Probably meeting the girl to call it off. _She's_ skipping school to see her boyfriend. No amount of make-up can hide the fact she's still a child, no more than sixteen. I wonder if her mother knows yet._

_He frowned as his eyes fell upon a young couple that seemed somehow..._wrong_. Out of place, though he didn't know how. Engaged, or recently married, judging from the way they're looking at each other, although neither of them are wearing a ring. Interesting. Dressed inappropriately for the London weather, yet no luggage, not so much as a backpack, to show that they are travelling. The girl's phone rang, and she answered it after the third ring. He watched in amusement as her face went from smiles to anger in a matter of seconds. _

_"What do you mean you lost the TARDIS?" she yelled into the phone, causing the people at the tables nearest her to turn and stare. Her fiancé/husband hastily apologised, and tried in vain to get her to calm down. _

_Just then his phone buzzed with a text from Lestrade. A new case. He snatched his coffee from the approaching waiter and headed out into the street._

_"Taxi!"_

-End Flashback-

John POV

"You'd better hang back when we go in John. We don't know what this guy is capable of. Can't have a civilian getting involved..." Lestrade trailed off when he saw the incredulous look on John's face.

"Civilian? I'm a doctor. An _army_ doctor. I served in _Afghanistan_, not to mention I live with Sherlock. I think I can handle some nutter who thinks he's Sherlock. Can't be any worse than the real one," he added cheekily as the detective joined them. Sherlock smiled thinly at him, before striding past the DI and into the house.

* * *

><p>The body was in a room at the back of the house. Despite the gruesome appearance of the house's owner, the attention of all three men was drawn to the strange man standing over the body turning over a small metal rod a few times before hitting it against his palm and muttering something about space sharks. He glanced up briefly, then did a double-take and beamed at them.<p>

"John! John Watson! How are you? Have you found my box yet?" Once again, the man's words came out in a single stream.

"What? I...uh..no-"

"Pity." And once again he couldn't get a word in. Lestrade shot him a 'You-know-this-guy' look, which he wanted to explain, except the man in question was talking again.

"And you must be Sherlock Holmes! Pleasure to finally meet you," he grabbed the detective's hand and shook it enthusiastically.

"The pleasure is all mine. Although I was under the impression that _you_ were Sherlock Holmes". The man stared at him blankly for a minute.

"Oh! Right, psychic paper. Yes well I needed to get in here and it just sort of...happened. Sorry about that". He glanced at Sherlock apologetically, then grinned again.

"I'm sorry, but who are you exactly?" cut in Lestrade.

"Right, sorry. I haven't introduced myself, how rude. I'm the Doctor. And you are?"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade," he said, blinking, not quite sure why he felt compelled to answer this strange man.

"DI Lestrade!" he gushed. "Oh this is brilliant! Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and DI Lestrade. London's finest! Well, gentlemen, what do you make of _this_?" He gestured at the body that lay forgotten in the middle of the room. Sherlock stared at the man for a minute, then cautiously stepped towards the body. The man, the _Doctor_, watched him expectantly. The detective looked over to John, who took this as his cue to begin his examination.

"Well, the injuries are the same as for the previous victims. Bruising around the mouth, consistent with someone covering it, probably to stop the victim screaming while they killed him. Large wound in the chest, fractures to the fourth, fifth and sixth ribs. No heart, no blood".

"But how is that possible? Was the body drained of blood and then moved?" queried Lestrade.

"No, definitely killed here," John frowned. "It's as if someone reached into his chest..." he sighed and shook his head. "But that just isn't possible".

"Isn't it?" Lestrade and John spun around in surprise, having quite forgotten about the Doctor's presence. Sherlock was staring at him coolly. Apparently he hadn't taken his eyes off the man since John began speaking.

"You think someone was capable of doing this?" asked Lestrade incredulously.

"Someone. Or some_thing_," he replied ominously. He looked over to Sherlock. "What do the facts say?" The detective was quite for a moment.

"Someone or some_thing_ forced..." he paused and, pulling out his magnifying glass, examined the wound carefully. "Forced a claw into the man's chest and grabbed hold of his heart, breaking several ribs in the process. It then proceeded to drain the blood from the body, consuming the heart in the process". He stood up and faced the Doctor with a frown.

"That's _exactly_ what happened," announced the Doctor loudly.

"But how did it get in? The door was locked from the inside and there was no sign of forced entry".

"The window".

"No sign of being forced either".

"He left it opened". Sherlock stared at the Doctor doubtfully.

"In this weather?" He paused, and looked around the room, taking in every detail. "The cat," he said finally.

"What cat?" sighed Lestrade, pinching the bridge of his nose. Keeping up with Sherlock was hard enough, but now that there were two brilliantly confusing men, he had no chance.

"_This_ cat," grinned the Doctor, throwing open the window. They all stared at it expectantly, but nothing happened. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.

"Alright, give it a minute. Ah ha! There he is," he bent down and attempted to pet the brown tabby that had just leapt in through the window, but it batted away his hand with its paw and darted out of the room.

"So the man leaves the window open every night to let in his cat. This..._thing_ climbed in the window, killed him, and then climbed back out again". He watched as the Doctor ran his finger along the windowsill, rubbed his fingertips together, then licked them. Lestrade and John exchanged a glance as the Doctor smacked his lips a few times and pulled a face.

"Well, anyway, must be off. Lots to do. You will let me know if you see my blue box?" This last part was directed at John, who just nodded dumbly.

"Hold on. I have some more questions I'd like to ask you. Preferably back at the Yard," insisted Lestrade, taking a step towards the man. He just grinned, and a moment later he (rather gracelessly) climbed out the window and ran off. Lestrade ran from the room, shouting for back up, leaving Sherlock and John alone with the body.

"Dinner?" suggested Sherlock casually, strolling towards the door.

"Starving!" replied John, following him out.


	9. Chapter 9 Sharing

Chapter 9- Sharing

The flat was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of paper as John turned a page in the book he was reading. He was making the most of this lull in the investigation, as the detective sat motionless on the couch, staring at the door. He been doing this for the past three hours. John lowered his book thoughtfully. Come to think of it, Sherlock hadn't spoken a word to him since the night before, after they'd left the crime scene. Sherlock hummed in agreement to John's unspoken observations.

"So," John took the opportunity to engage Sherlock in conversation. "Are you waiting for something?" The detective hummed again but did not elaborate.

"Anything in particular?" pushed John, closing his book and placing it on the coffee table.

"Two things, actually". John rolled his eyes.

"Sharing is caring, you know. Not everyone is a mind-reader like you". Sherlock scoffed.

"I'm hardly a _mind-reader_ John, I merely _observe_." His eyes flicked from the door to John, then, upon seeing the doctor's unimpressed expression at being left out, sighed dramatically and pulled his chair around to face John.

"Firstly, I'm waiting for the Doctor". He quickly added, before John could interrupt, "I've invited him". John just stared.

"But how?" he said finally. "You don't even know where he is, or anything about him for that matter!"

"I posted an advertisement in today's newspaper." Sherlock tossed over the classifies section.

_F O U N D - T A R D I S_

_If lost, please collect from_

_221B Baker Street_

_S . H o l m e s_

"So you found it then?" queried John.

"No, but that's bound to get his attention. Secondly, I'm waiting for a book, but I'll explain that later. I do believe that's him now." He grinned and sat back in his chair. Just then Mrs Hudson popped her head in.

"John dear, your doctor-friend is here to see you again. Oh Sherlock! Look at the state of this place!" She moved forward with the intention of tidying up, but Sherlock was up in a flash, taking her hand and gently steering her towards the door.

"We have guests Mrs Hudson, we shouldn't keep them waiting," he reminded her.

"Of course, I'll show them up. But you really should tidy up if you're having people over Sherlock," she tutted, before disappearing out the door. As Sherlock settled back into his chair, John heard the voice of the Doctor drift up the stairs.

"...and I must say, that is a lovely jacket you've got on today Mrs Hudson!" The footsteps came closer and soon the Doctor was standing excitedly in the middle of their living room, while a young couple hung back at the doorway.

"John! How are you? And Sherlock! You said you'd found my TARDIS? Where is she?" he looked around the room expectantly, as if it might be hiding somewhere.

"Not here," Sherlock answered brusquely. The Doctor's face fell.

"Oh. Well that wasn't very nice. You got me all excited for nothing," he frowned.

"I said it's not here, that doesn't mean I haven't found it".

"So you _do_ know where she it then? Brilliant!" His face lit up again, and he spun around to face the couple at the door. "Didn't I tell you he was brilliant!" He turned back to Sherlock. "Well, where is she?"

"I believe Professor Moriarty has taken it".

"And where is this Professor then".

"I have yet to locate him-"

"Then you haven't found it, have you!" snapped the redhead. Sherlock stared at her for a moment, then replied.

"I would be better able to do that if I could solve all the clues he has left. I am, however, unable to do this as your friend here as taken the most recent one". The Doctor put his hand into his pocket (which seemed disproportionately deep to John).

"Oh, right! I found this in his jacket pocket. Sorry about that. I put it in my pocket when you lot showed up," he smiled apologetically, and handed over a piece of paper to the detective. Sherlock read the note with a frown, then handed it to John. He briefly wondered what could have puzzled Sherlock, before reading the two words written, and desperately biting back a smile.

"What? What's so funny?" demanded the girl, stepping over to them and snatching the paper from John's hands. "What?" she said again, upon reading the note. Rory walked up behind her, and read over her shoulder.

"Harry Potter?" he said, bewildered. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Don't know, but I intend to find out," replied the Doctor, glancing back at Sherlock. "So, where do we start?"

"How about some introductions?" suggested the girl. "I'm Amy, this is my husband Rory," Rory waved hello at this. "And you've already met the Doctor. So, who are you two then?"

"I'm John, and this is Sherlock-"

"Good, now that we all know each other, _who_ exactly is Harry Potter?" cut in Sherlock. Amy gaped at him.

"How can you _not_ know who Harry Potter is? Little kids know who Harry Potter is!" Sherlock looked to John for answers.

"He's a character in a children's book," he explained.

"Dull, no wonder I deleted it".

"Deleted it? How do you _delete_ something?" asked Rory. Sherlock sighed.

"My brain is like a hard drive. I only keep things in my memory that are important. Everything else I delete. Such as fictional characters".

"Or the solar system," quipped John. Sherlock glared at him.

"How could you delete the _solar system_!" gasped the Doctor incredulously.

"It is unimportant in my line of work. Unlike you, I don't go off gallivanting through it".

"What?" said John, Rory and Amy at once. The Doctor looked intrigued.

"How did you know I go _gallivanting_ through the solar system?"

"For starters, you're an alien (John spluttered at this but Sherlock continued on). You're a lot older than you look; your eyes are older than your face. You walk into a crime scene, examine the body and suggest the murderer is a monster, yet you're not at all bothered, which suggests that you do this often. This TARDIS is your spacecraft, which Moriarty has taken. He has included you in the game, probably because he needs you to operate it".

"Brilliant! Yes you're right, I am an alien. I'm 908 years old, but I don't solve mysteries _every _day. Every other day maybe. Maybe every day. _Anyway_, I can't imagine this Professor will be able to open her up. Even the Sontarans wouldn't be able to get inside! Maybe the Daleks though..." he muttered to himself. John had no idea what this man was on about, and he couldn't understand why he was the only one so surprised at this man's claim to be an alien.

"But, you look human!" protested John.

"What? No, why does everybody always say that? _You _look Timelord, _we_ were here first. Here," he dug a stethoscope out of his pocket and held it out to John. "How _did_ you figure out I wasn't human, by the way?" he directed at Sherlock, as John hesitantly took the proffered stethoscope and, putting the earpieces into his ears, he placed the bell over the Doctor's heart. It seemed normal enough, though it did seem to echo a lot, almost as if...

"I felt your pulse when you shook my hand," explained Sherlock. John moved the bell to the other side of the Doctor's chest, then jumped back in surprise.

"Yes, Timelords have two hearts. Now! Shall we try and find this Moriarty?"

"Yeah," mumbled John, recovering from the shock. "Didn't you say something about a book before, Sherlock?"

"Yes, while I was examining the body, I found this note in the jacket's _other_ pocket". John stared in amazement. He hadn't even noticed Sherlock searching the pockets, never mind finding any clues.

"Well? What does it say?" asked Amy. She took the note from him and read it aloud.

"_I'll be seeing you soon, my dear. You can book on it_. 'My dear', that's a bit creepy. Does he call you that often?"

"Isn't it supposed to be 'bet on it'?" added Rory.

"And now that I know which book," continued Sherlock, completely ignoring them. "We can start working on it".

"Erm, you realise there are _seven_ books right? It could be any of them," sighed Amy.

"Well then, we'd best get started!" exclaimed the Doctor. "I've got the whole set in the library!" And with that he raced out the door and down the stairs.

"The library that's in the TARDIS, which it still missing," Amy mentioned quietly. A few minutes later the Doctor reappeared holding a brown parcel and looking rather forlorn.

"The library is in the TARDIS, which is still missing," he mumbled sheepishly. Amy rolled her eyes.

"What's that?" demanded Sherlock, staring at the parcel. The Doctor looked down at it, seeming to have quite forgotten he was holding it.

"I don't know. It was on the front step. It's addressed to you," he said, handing it over. Sherlock took it over to his workbench and examined every inch of it, before carefully unwrapping it, to reveal the very book they needed; _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_.

Sherlock opened each page carefully, going over them with his magnifying glass. After about ten pages, he flipped through the rest of the book, to the last few pages, and examined them too. When he reached the back cover, he frowned and placed the book on the bench in front of him, before crossing his arms and staring at it. After a few minutes of silence, the Doctor ventured to ask if he might have a look. He flipped through it and smiled.

"Ah Fluffy, I love that bit," he sighed nostalgically, then turned to Amy. "Did I ever tell you I've seen a three-headed dog before? Very cute, although one head was always jealous, because I could only pat two at once!" He stopped dead. "Hang on a minute..." He flipped back through the pages. "There, look! Page ten. 'Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy hello day'. Happy hello? That doesn't make sense...unless..." He flipped through some more pages. "And on page thirty, 'My H. Potter'. It should be 'Mr'. And page forty-eight, 'Great man, Dumbledear'. It's Dumble_dore_, not Dumble_dear_". As he'd been doing this, Sherlock leant forward eagerly.

"He's changed the words. Interesting. John, write it down," he ordered. John pulled out his notepad and pen, still trying to comprehend that the Doctor had read the entire book in the space of five seconds.

"What exactly am I writing?"

"The words he's changed. Starting with 'Hello my dear'". And so the Doctor flicked through the rest of the book, while John wrote down the words that had been changed, until the whole message was revealed.

_Hello my dear. Meet you at eleven-fifty-nine. And bring a scarf, it's quite cold out. You can bank on that._

"Meet where? He hasn't specified a place," frowned Amy.

"Again, isn't it _bet on it_," reiterated Rory.

"The docks," stated Sherlock, pocketing his blackberry, which he'd been fiddling with. Noting the blank stares he received, he explained, "He said to _bank on it_, so I gathered he meant Bank Street, which is near the docks. At this time of year the wind coming off the water is freezing, hence _bring a scarf_".

"Wow, that was quite clever," conceded Amy. John smiled to himself. He wondered how Sherlock ego would take being called 'quite clever' as opposed to 'brilliant'. The detective sniffed and stood abruptly.

"If we leave now, we can get there early and stop this monster before it kills it's next victim," he said sharply, before exiting the room, Amy and Rory close behind. John stopped to grab his revolver (and didn't miss the Doctor's disapproving glance as he put it in his pocket) before following the others outside.


	10. Chapter 10 Captured

Chapter 10- Captured

John stepped outside just as a cab pulled up in front of them. They all piled in (albeit the Doctor a little hesitantly) and Sherlock told the driver the address. Despite the detective's encouragement to do otherwise, the cabby decided to drive _at_ the speed limit.

"Sooo...," started the Doctor awkwardly. "Is this how you get around then? Catch a cab?"

"Would you prefer to walk?" replied Sherlock curtly. "I was under the impression we wanted to get there _tonight_".

"Alright, that's enough. Do I have to separate you two?" chided Amy. There was silence for a moment, and the Doctor wriggled about, trying to get comfortable. Well, as comfortable as he could, squeezed in between John and Rory.

"It's quite small in here, though," he continued. "Well, I suppose it could be quite cosy". Sherlock glared at him lazily, before turning back to look out the window. "Right," said the Doctor, tapping his hand awkwardly on his knee.

The rest of the trip was made in silence.

* * *

><p>They arrived at the docks with 15 minutes to spare. The cabby had also decided to follow the directions of his SatNav, rather than those of Sherlock, which ended up with them taking a lot of wrong turns, and John nearly having to restrain the detective from throwing the cabby out and driving the car himself. Needless to say John tipped the cabby well to make up for Sherlock's scathing deductions and threats.<p>

"We should split up," suggested John. "We'll cover more ground and-" He was cut off by the sounds of screaming coming from nearby. The Doctor was off in a flash, with Sherlock close at his heels. The others raced after them, the screaming getting louder as they got closer. As they rounded the corner they saw _it_. Most of its body was covered by a tattered cloak, but it's arms and legs were visible; large plates of dark green scales that gave it an insectile appearance. Its hands were dark crimson claws, faded to black at the tips, and right now those claws were holding a girl up against the wall, while she screamed and begged for it to let her go. The Doctor reached it first, and pointed his metal tube at it. The end of the tube sparked green, and he dropped it with a yelp of pain and surprise. However, it had the desired effect, as the creature let the girl go and ran off. The Doctor ran straight to the girl, who had slumped down the wall, while Sherlock ran after the creature, but it disappeared before he could catch up, so he returned to where John and the others were crouched around the girl.

"It's alright, you're alright now," said the Doctor soothingly. "What's your name?" The girl sniffed and wiped her eye with the heel of her palm.

"Lily," she replied in a voice barely more than a whisper.

"Lily? That's a lovely name," he smiled. Sherlock frowned.

"Why did the creature attack you?" he demanded. John shot him the A Bit Not Good look and whispered, "Be nice Sherlock, she's been through a lot".

"Yes, but that doesn't help us catch it. If we don't stop it, it will kill someone else," the detective shot back.

"I don't know," she said, a little louder. "I was just walking to my car, when that thing jumped out at me. I was so scared, I just ran. I thought it was going to kill me," her voice caught in her throat, and Amy put an arm comfortingly around her shoulder.

"What were you doing at a place like this so late at night? And all on your own?" asked the Doctor softly.

"I'm a cleaner. I had a late shift tonight. I-" her voice caught again and she broke off into sobs.

"Amy, Rory, take Lily back to her car," said the Doctor, helping the girl to her feet. "Will you be alright to drive?" Lily nodded and sniffed loudly. Rory took her arm and gently lead her back towards the road.

"And what are you going to do?" asked Amy in hushed tones.

"I'm going to try and find this creature," he replied seriously.

"You think it's still here?" asked John in surprise.

"I know it is".

"Just, be careful alright?" cautioned Amy, walking over to where Rory and Lily had stopped to wait for her.

"Thank you," called Lily, pushing a strand of dark red hair out of her face, before turning and walking out of sight, with Amy and Rory on either side of her. The Doctor watched them go, before turning back to Sherlock and John.

"Right," he said, pulling his mobile out of his pocket and handing it to Sherlock. "We'll split up and search the area. Stay in contact. If one of us finds it, we call the others. Don't try to take it on by yourself, we don't know what it will do".

"It will rip a great hole in our chest, we know _that_ much," muttered John, as Sherlock entered their numbers into the Doctor's phone. Once he'd finished and handed back the phone they each went off in a different direction in search of the creature.

* * *

><p>The Doctor stood up suddenly, hitting his head on the edge of a crate in the process. He rubbed his head gingerly as he pulled the ringing phone out of his pocket.<p>

"Hello?"

_"Doctor. It's Amy. Lily's in her car, safe and sound. Where are you?"_

"Round the back of the warehouse. Go back to where we found Lily, I'll come around and meet you there".

_"Alright. Are you sure it's still here?"_

"Positive".

_"What is it? I mean it's- ...what was that?" _This last bit was directed more at Rory than the Doctor.

"Amy? Amy what is it?"

_"Oh my god, Doctor, it's here! I-"_

"Amy? Amy! Amy, are you alright!" He heard her cry out, though it sounded far away. She'd obviously dropped her phone. The Doctor ran, the phone still at his ear, desperately listening to hear if they were alright.

_"Amy!"_ he heard Rory yell, followed by Amy's screams, _"Rory! Do something!"_

_"Let go of her!"_

_"No! Rory! Rory!" _

By the time the Doctor reached them, the creature and Amy were gone, and Rory was lying groaning on the asphalt. The sound of pounding footsteps told him Amy's screams had brought Sherlock and John back. He dropped down beside Rory and rolled him onto his back.

"Doctor," he mumbled. "It's got her. It took Amy". John was by his side an instant later, immediately checking over Rory's wounds. Sherlock was standing behind him, checking around for the creature. The Doctor got up and ran a little way down the road.

"Amy?" he called. "Amy! Amelia!" Despite his yells, all he heard was the sound of his own voice echoing around the docks. He ran his hands frantically through his hair and spun around in a circle. There was no sign of where they'd gone. He walked slowly back to the others. John was helping Rory sit up. He looked up at the Doctor hopefully.

"I'll get her back Rory," he vowed. "I promise you, I'll get her back".

* * *

><p>Back at Baker Street, John had Rory sat at the kitchen table, and was patching up his injuries. Sherlock was sitting on John's couch, watching the Doctor pace back and forth across the living room.<p>

"Stupid stupid stupid!" he berated himself. "This was about Amy all along. Of course it was about Amy. He planned this. He knew we'd be there. Although, he didn't plan on Lily. Probably told the creature to get the red-haired girl. What were the chances of a second girl with red hair being there? That should have been obvious! It didn't kill her because he needs her alive to use as a hostage against me to try and force me to open up the TARDIS for him!"

"What is this TARDIS anyway? What's so important about it?" called John as he finished bandaging Rory's hand.

"TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. It's not just a spaceship, it's a time machine too. If the Professor got inside it, he could go back and re-write history," the Doctor replied gravely. John and Sherlock stared at him for a moment, taking in the gravity of the situation. "We need to find him and stop him before he can hurt Amy or anyone else".

"How are we going to find him?"

"We can't until we have more information," stated the detective.

"We can't just sit around and wait for him to hand out more clues! Those usually come with a body attached!" shouted John in frustration. The Doctor tugged at his hair.

"If only I had the TARDIS, I could do a scan and find where he's keeping her," he groaned.

"I've only got some basic alien tech, but it's at your disposal Doctor," came a voice from behind him. They all four turned to see a man in a long blue coat leaning casually against the door frame.

"Jack!" exclaimed the Doctor. "You haven't changed a bit".

"I can't say the same about you, I'm afraid," replied Jack, walking over to him.

"Yes well, new face. You know how it is".

"What happened to the coat?"

"I wear a bowtie now. Bowties are cool". Jack laughed, then moved past the Doctor to where Sherlock was sitting.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he said, holding out a hand to the detective.

"Sherlock Holmes," he replied, shaking the proffered hand briefly. Jack turned around as John and Rory walked into the room.

"This is Rory, and John," said the Doctor, pointing to each in turn. Jack shook both their hands as well, though seemed reluctant to let go of John's hand.

"So, you're an army man, John?" he asked.

"Um, yeah."

"I can always tell. Soldiers have the best arses, if you don't mind me saying. Where'd you serve?"

"What? I, um, Afghanistan. I was an army doctor. Still am. A doctor, that is."

"A solider _and_ a doctor? How about we go get a drink sometime," grinned Jack suggestively, eyeing the doctor up and down. John shifted uncomfortably and Sherlock sat up stiffly, clenching his jaw. The Doctor sighed.

"Nope, you haven't changed a bit," he muttered to himself. "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't," said Jack, turning back to face the Doctor. "I just got back to Earth yesterday, when I received a call from one of my contacts in the Government informing me that my services were required and I should head over here ASAP. I never expected to find you here, though that was a lovely surprise," he added.

"You said you only had basic tech? Surely you have more than just _basic_ at Torchwood?"

"Um, well, there was an...incident, and the Cardiff base was, well, destroyed".

"What? That's the third one!" exclaimed the Doctor.

"And remind me how many regenerations you're up to again," countered Jack. The Doctor pouted.

"Look, can we get a move on, and save Amy?" urged Rory impatiently.

"Right, yes. Captain, lead the way," cried the Doctor. Jack grinned and saluted the Doctor cheekily (knowing full well he hated such formalities) and lead the way down to a big black SUV waiting for them out the front.


	11. Chapter 11 Realisation

Chapter 11- Realisation

"Welcome to Torchwood 3.5!" announced Jack, flicking the lights on. It wasn't much, and felt extremely crowded with the five of them in the same room. The entrance was a cellar door in some dingy alley way, which lead down to the room they were currently standing in. There were three doors, one on each side of the room, which lead to a smaller room with a workbench, a kitchenette (complete with coffee table and couch), and a storage room. The Doctor rummaged around the storeroom, commenting on the various odds and ends that he found in there (_Wow! I haven't seen one of these is ages! Where did you get something like this?)_ before taking up residence at the work bench and using some of the tools to mend his metal tube (Sonic screwdriver, he'd called it). Sherlock and Rory sat on the couch while John boiled the kettle. Jack came in soon after and leant up against the counter next to John, shamelessly hitting on the poor man. John, ever polite, just smiled and tried to ignore him, but Sherlock snapped and, grabbing John's wrist, dragged him out through the main room and up the stairs to the alley. John sat down on the curb and watched the detective pace for a moment, not daring to interrupt, until he saw Sherlock growing frustrated.

"Sherlock," he said. No reply. "Sherlock? Sherlock!". The detective's head snapped around.

"What?" he snarled testily. John remained silent a moment and Sherlock sighed. "What?" he said a little softer.

"What's wrong?" he asked, the concern clear in his voice.

"This case. I'm missing something. Something obvious. I just can't-" he sighed again and returned to his pacing.

"Well, why don't you talk me through the case? Go through all the facts from start to now and we'll see if we can't figure this thing out." Sherlock smiled to himself. This was exactly what he needed. No Doctors, no aliens, no distractions. Just him, John and the facts. He was silent a while as he collected his thoughts.

"Eighteen days ago, a piece of space junk falls out of the sky. I think we can presume it wasn't actually space junk, but our alien friend. He kills three people, then Moriarty recruits him, with some kind of offer or threat, and knowing him it's more likely the latter. He gets the creature to kill for him, and that's when Lestrade called me in to the case. About the same time, this Doctor and his friends arrive and Moriarty takes their TARDIS, which explains why there was such a delay between the first and second clues, he was obviously busy trying to open his new toy. We found the third victim alive," he paused with a frown, then continued. "Then there was the two clues in the newspaper. He doesn't like to repeat himself, but used the newspaper twice, meaning he must have known the Doctor was investigating him too and wanted to include him in the game. Then there was the book. He sent the book to us, and most likely sent one to the Doctor as well. I don't think he counted on the Doctor coming to us or solving his clue so quickly. He meant for us to find a body when we got there, and use the distraction to take Amy". He paused again thoughtfully.

"Well, we know he wants Amy to use against the Doctor. But what about the third victim? Why keep him alive, if he's killed all the others?"

"Why indeed. I think there's more he didn't tell us. Perhaps another visit will jog his memory. Come along John," with a swish of his coat (_always so dramatic_, thought John) he walked towards the street. John stood and made to follow Sherlock, but some instinct made him turn around. The alley way was empty, save for a few cats poking through the garbage. Still, he had the strangest feeling that somebody was watching him, and he doubted it was the cats. He looked up at the roofs, but they too were devoid of life. He shrugged and jogged after Sherlock, silently wondering if maybe Mycroft had upgraded from security cameras to invisible men.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey all<strong>

**Short chapter, I know, but I felt bad for not posting in a while. Long chapter coming up to make up for it =)**

**~PBP**


	12. Chapter 12 Perception

Chapter 12- Perception

As the taxi turned into Jackson Street, John tried to ignore the niggling in the back of his mind that something wasn't right. From the alley way to the taxi he was sure they were being followed, but whenever he glanced back he couldn't see anybody there. Sherlock had also looked back at one point, just before he got in the taxi, but didn't say anything, and John had felt like he was being paranoid. But now, as they got out of the taxi, he felt a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach, like they were walking into a trap, and said as much to Sherlock, to which the detective merely replied, "You've got your gun".

"Of course," he answered, not sure whether this was meant as a question or a statement. Sherlock seemed satisfied with this, and moved to knock on the third victim's door. No one answered. He knocked again, more forcefully.

"Mr Clark! Open the door, this is the police," he called loudly. John shot him a look which he ignored. After five minutes of this, a light came on, and the man opened the door, looking very surprised.

" 'ho are you?" he demanded.

"Mr Mic Clark, my name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is my colleague Doctor Watson. We're with the police. You may recall, I interviewed you after you were attacked last week. I have some more questions I'd like to ask you".

"At two in the bloody morning! Can't it wait 'til a more decent hour?"

"No. May we come in?" Without waiting for an answer, Sherlock brushed past the man into the house. John and Mic followed him into the living room.

"Have you remembered anything about the incident since the last time we spoke?"

"No, I haven't. Woulda come to the police if I had, wouldn't I?" snapped Mic, folding his arms across his chest. Sherlock frowned at him.

"Have you noticed anything unusual? Anything missing, or out of place?"

"No. Well, actually there was one thing," he said thoughtfully, walking over to a side table. "Found this the next day". He reached down and picked something up. Sherlock stiffened, and John was sure the detective shifted further in front of him. Mic put the object, an ear piece, into his ear, and after a few seconds started speaking.

"Hello my dear, it's been _such _a long time, hasn't it? I'm sure you've missed me, but not to worry, because here I am," said Mic.

"Moriarty. Not going to grace us with your presence? I'm hurt," said Sherlock calmly. John slowly moved his hand to his waistband and was about to close his hand around the butt of the gun, but the detective signalled behind his back for John to wait.

"Oh, don't be like that. I'm a very busy man, you know," boasted Moriarty through Mic. John found it quite disconcerting how easily Mic's expression matched Moriarty's word. Even his posture was the same.

"Yes I've noticed. But to what end? What happens now that you have the girl?"

"Isn't it obvious Sherlock? It's all a game. You know how bored I get sometimes. It was meant for you, but then I found a new player. He's quite brilliant, isn't he? This _Doctor_. More so than even _you_, I dare say. And his toys are _so_ interesting".

"Ah yes, the blue box. Pity you can't get inside," smirked Sherlock. Mic frowned.

"There's no need to be a sore loser Sherlock. And you _are_ the loser. But _really_, what did you expect? After you beat the last round, you couldn't expect me to let you win _again_? No, no I simply couldn't allow it".

"So what happens now?" Mic grinned and made to move towards the kitchen door, but John whipped out his gun and aimed straight at the man's head. He noticed Sherlock's face grow pale and stony, and followed his gaze to the hallway door. His stomach dropped. The creature they'd been chasing earlier that night was now standing between them and their best escape route. It had drawn back its hood, revealing its insectile features. A low clicking noise issued from its mandible.

"I see you've meet my new pet before. He's quite hungry, you know. I do forget to feed him. Don't worry though Sherlock, he won't hurt you. I'm not finished with you just yet, though I'm afraid I can't say the same for your little pet. I know I said I'd burn the heart out of you dear, but I'm just _so_ changeable. You can watch me _rip_ the heart out of you instead!"

At that moment several things happened. Mic lunged at Sherlock as John fired two shots at the creature. It didn't seem at all phased. In fact, the bullets seemed to bounce right off its scales.

"John! Run!" yelled Sherlock, struggling to break free from Mic's hold. John looked over at him, then back at the creature, before turning and racing through the door into the kitchen. The creature sprang after him. Sherlock punched Mic hard in the stomach, causing the man to double over. Just then, a scream of agony sounded from the kitchen.

"John!" cried the detective, making for the door, but a hand shot out and grabbed his elbow, jerking him back. Sherlock grabbed the nearest thing, an oversized lamp, and crashed it down onto Mic's head. He dropped like a stone, unconscious. The sound of glass been smashed signalled the departure of the creature, and everything became quiet.

"John?" croaked Sherlock. No response. He moved slowly to the kitchen door, his body felt like lead. His hand hovered hesitantly above the handle. He couldn't bring himself to move, he didn't want to face the reality that lay on the other side of the door. Steeling himself, the detective pressed down on the handle and pushed the door open. His breath caught in his throat. The creature hadn't been as careful this time; the kitchen floor was spattered with blood. The gaping hole in his chest was much bigger than any of the other victims' had been; his ribcage was cracked and twisted, and his shirt was soaked in blood. Sherlock forced his eyes to slide up to John's face, and froze. _It wasn't John._

"Sherlock". He spun around, and there was John, safe and sound and _alive._ He was leaning up against the fridge, a key dangling from a string clutched in his left hand. Without thinking, the detective strode forward and wrapped his arms around the shorter man's shoulders.

"Thank God," he whispered to himself, letting out a shaky breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.

"I-, Sherlock-," blinked John in surprise, stunned by the detective's sudden affectionate display. But just as quickly as it had happened Sherlock let go and stepped back, though his eyes continued to scan every inch of John.

"Are you alright?" he demanded.

"Yeah, fine. I'm fine". Sherlock nodded, then turned back to examine the body of Jack Harkness. He noticed the change immediately. _The wound was smaller!_ He was sure of it. The longer he stared, he realised it was still shrinking. John, who had moved to stand beside him, gasped as he noticed it too.

"Is he...healing?" he stammered in disbelief. They watched in horrified fascination has Jack's wound completely healed, without so much as a scar to show what had been. John and Sherlock jumped, and John clutched at his chest, leaning on the back of a chair, as Jack suddenly gasped and sat bolt upright. He panted for a minute, then, noticing the other two in the room, composed himself and stood up.

"Well, what did I miss?" he grinned. The other two just stared at him.

"You...you were dead!" spluttered John finally.

"Yes, but now I'm not. Long story," replied Jack, adjusting his collar.

"Does this happen often? You dying," queried Sherlock.

"More often than I would like". John sat down on the chair he'd been leaning against.

"What the _hell_ just happened?" he demanded.

"Isn't it obvious?" replied Sherlock. John glared at him wearily; he wasn't in the mood for being insulted. The detective noticed and continued. "This _game_ was meant to punish me. You heard how angry he got when he mentioned our _winning_ the last game". John sighed.

"These _games_ will be the death of me".

"That was the idea". John started and stared up at the detective.

"What?"

"In the last game, he gave me clues and a chance to save the victims if I solved them, but this time the clues only lead to another body. He left Mr Clark alive because he knew I'd realise the change in pattern and come back here eventually. He's probably been watching us, and when we arrived here sent his creature to kill you". John was speechless.

"But what I don't understand," Sherlock continued, "is how come it didn't kill you?"

"Because he was invisible," chipped in Jack. Sherlock frowned.

"Invisible?"

"Well, not invisible, but unnoticeable anyway". He took the key John had been fiddling with and put the string it hung from around his neck. Sherlock found himself not wanting to look at Jack, and had to force his mind to pay attention to him, which was most disconcerting. Jack took the key off and handed it to Sherlock.

"Perception filter. It's how I followed you two without you noticing".

"So there _was_ someone following us!" exclaimed John, feeling slightly relieved his paranoia was not unfounded.

"I knew you were following us," stated Sherlock. "I saw you out the corner of my eye when we were getting into the taxi". Jack raised his eyebrows, then shrugged.

"Well the important thing is that Kelsiryte didn't see John. I put the key on him when he ran in here. Lucky for us Kelsirytes can't tell humans apart. Apparently we all look the same to them. Although, they all look the same to me as well, so I suppose I can't complain".

"Wait, you know what that thing was?" started John.

"Yeah, I've met a few in my travels. They were nice enough guys". Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered it. "Doctor!...Yeah we're all still here...uh-huh...yep...ok we'll head back that way and meet you...". He hung up and returned the phone to his pocket. "You guys ready to kick some ass and save a damsel in distress?"


	13. Chapter 13 Run

Chapter 13- Run

Sherlock rolled his eyes as once again the contraption the Doctor had run up to track down the alien, and Moriarty's base of operations, issued a high pitched beeping noise. The Doctor gave it a few hard thumps with a small rubber mallet and the lights started flashing again.

"That way!" announced the Doctor. Jack cut across two lanes of traffic, performed an illegal U-turn, and drove them down a series of narrow side streets as the Doctor navigated. Finally Jack pulled up the car in the shadows of a building, and they all piled out.

"So? Where is she?" asked Rory anxiously.

"In that warehouse over there," indicated the Doctor, screwing up his nose. "How unoriginal, keeping a hostage in a warehouse. Why _are_ there so many abandoned warehouses anyway? When people hire out these warehouses, do they screen for criminal backgrounds at all? Is there a section for it in the paperwork? _Will you be using the warehouse for any sort of criminal activities? If so please specify-_"

"Doctor! Amy?" Interrupted Rory impatiently.

"Amy? Yes Amy! Let's go get Amy!" He made to walk off but Jack pulled him back.

"There's bound to be guards, especially around where they're keeping Amy. Our best bet is to split up. Rory, you come with me and we'll find the TARDIS. Sherlock and John can go with the Doctor to find Amy".

"No, I'm going to look for Amy. She's _my _wife!"

"No, you come with me. John is trained for this kind of thing, and Sherlock is brilliant. They go with the Doctor". John didn't miss the way Sherlock seemed to straighten his shoulders a tiny bit after being called brilliant, and rolled his eyes inwardly at the detective's ego.

The two groups split up and headed off in different directions, Jack and Rory around the side of a neighbouring building, and the Doctor, Sherlock and John towards the front of the warehouse.

"So, what's the plan?" asked John in hushed tones, as they ducked behind a wall.

"We go see if anybody is home," answered the Doctor, and with that he strolled casually up to the front door. Sherlock and John stared after him in disbelief. The two men standing guard at either side of the door immediately aimed their guns at him.

"Now now, there's no need for that. See," he raised his hands in surrender. "I'm unarmed. I've come to have a chat with your boss. He's expecting me actually". The two men glanced at each other, then the first guard pulled out his walkie talkie and muttered quietly into it. A minute later he nodded to the second guard who moved back from the door, though kept his gun trained on the Doctor, who stepped forward and pulled the door opened. He then paused and turned to where Sherlock and John were still hiding.

"Well, are you two coming or not?" he called. Red dots starting dancing across their backs and, seeing little choice, the two men stood up, hands raised in surrender, and followed the Doctor through the door. It shut behind them, and they moved slowly forward as their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

"That was completely mad! What if they'd killed you?" reproached John in hushed tones.

"They won't kill us," replied the Doctor nonchalantly.

"Moriarty wants to see us. He _needs_ the Doctor if he wants to open up the TARDIS," added the detective. They followed the corridor around until it ended in a doorway, with light shining from underneath it. Sherlock and John exchanged a glance, and the Doctor carefully stepped forward and pushed the door opened.

On the other side of the room sat Amy. She was tied to the chair and had a large bruise on her cheek, as well as split lip, but otherwise seemed uninjured. Moriarty stood next to her, a gun held loosely in his hand. This didn't concern Amy, however, judging by the amount of abuse she was hurling at the man.

"...think you're so tough. Well, just untie me and we'll see how tough you really are! I've faced Daleks and Cybermen, I'm not afraid of you!" she yelled fiercely.

"You should be," replied Moriarty calmly.

"Doctor!" exclaimed Amy, as she noticed the three standing there. "You took your time".

"Sorry, had to fix the sonic. You alright?"

"Peachy," she snapped sarcastically. Moriarty glanced up at the Doctor and his friends.

"Well Doctor, we finally meet. And Sherlock! It's good to see you again". His eyebrow twitched in anger. "Though I'll admit I am surprised to see your little pet still with us". Sherlock clenched his jaw, but said nothing. "Anyway, shall we have a bit of a chat? Although first I'll have you drop your weapons". Nobody moved. Moriarty cocked the gun and pressed it hard against Amy's temple.

"Doctor," she called uneasily. John slowly pulled his gun out of his belt and placed in on the ground. He was surprised to see Sherlock do the same, wondering where he'd got the gun (although he had a sneaking suspicion a certain Detective Inspector was currently one weapon short). Moriarty looked at the Doctor expectantly, and raised an eyebrow when he didn't move.

"I don't carry weapons," stated the Doctor simply. "Ever." He and Moriarty continued to stare each other down until Moriarty shrugged and lowered his own gun. "Well then, here's the deal Doctor. You show me how to open that blue box of yours, and I'll let you and your friends go. If you don't, my pet here will be having a banquet tonight". The creature stepped out of the shadows behind Moriarty and moved to stand in front of him.

"No".

"Are you sure you don't want to change you answer?"

"Positive".

"Pity, we could have had such fun together". He clicked his fingers and the creature lunged forwards. John sprang forward, placing himself between it and Sherlock, but the detective caught his collar and yanked him back as the creature slashed its claw across, missing John's stomach by centimetres.

"Kelsiryte, stop," called the Doctor clearly. Everyone froze and turned to look at him.

"You...know me?" croaked the creature in a husky voice.

"Kelsirytes. From the planet Kelsirydon, just outside the Milky Way. How did you come to be on Earth?"

"I'd just delivered a shipment to Messier 33, and was passing above Earth when my engines malfunctioned and I crashed. My ship was completely destroyed, I had no way of communicating with anyone from my home world".

"But surely someone would have noticed you missing and come looking for you?" frowned the Doctor, puzzled. The Kelsiryte shook his head.

"I was late for my next delivery, and took a shortcut through this solar system instead of my usual route. Even if they had come looking, they would not have found me".

"Because they'd be looking in the wrong place". The Kelsiryte nodded. "I can take you back there, if you'd like".

"You have a ship?"

"Around here somewhere. Once I find it, I promise I will take you home".

"Home," sighed the Kelsiryte longingly, closing his eyes.

"Move!" yelled Sherlock suddenly, noticing Moriarty signal his men. The Kelsiryte opened his eyes in time to see the red dot on the centre of his chest before the bullet ripped through him. He gasped in pain and shock, before dropping to the ground.

"No!" yelled the Doctor, dropping to the creature's side. He placed his hands over the wound and pressed firmly. Sherlock and John stood by them helplessly, knowing there was nothing they could do. "Hang on, just hang on and we'll get you home. Just you wait and see, back in time for supper. Just hang on".

"Ho-me..." croaked the creature, staring up at the Doctor.

"Yes, that's right. Home. We're going to get you home. I promised we would and we will, you just need to hold on".

"Ho-" his breath caught in his throat, then he let out a long sigh, and his body went limp. John closed his eyes and hung his head forward sorrowfully. The Doctor sat motionless and stony faced as he stared down at the Kelsiryte's still form, before turning a fierce gaze towards Moriarty.

"Humans. You and you're guns. You don't think, you just shoot and kill. He was scared and alone. He just wanted to go home, and you killed him!" he yelled, standing up and putting his hand into his pocket.

"Doctor!" cried Amy, as the sniper's dots danced over his body, but before they could fire he whipped out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it towards their weapons. The sonic glowed green and let out a high pitched whirring noise, followed closely by the bangs and yelps of pain as the sniper's guns exploded in their hands. He spun around, disarming every weapon (including his and Sherlock's, John noted ruefully). Finally he turned back to face Moriarty, who was looking considerably less smug than he had when they first arrived.

"Professor Moriarty. I have one word for you. Just one. Run."


	14. Chapter 14 This again

Chapter 14- This again

Moriarty ran.

He wasn't entirely sure _why_ he ran, but something about the Doctor; the look in his eyes, the calm, cold anger, had alerted some instinct in him to get the hell out of there. Although not without first trying to buy himself some time. Before he turned to race down the corridor, he kicked over Amy's chair. The Doctor and Sherlock's little pet had stopped to help her, but not Sherlock. Never his Sherlock. Moriarty grinned as he ran. Sherlock didn't care about the chess pieces, only the Game. After all, who really cared how many pawns were sacrificed in order to reach the checkmate? Sherlock understood that, which is why they'd always be soulmates. Two parts of the same whole; the consulting detective and the consulting criminal. It was a match made in heaven.

_And speaking of checkmate,_ thought Moriarty, the second before Sherlock tackled him to the ground. The detective pressed his knee into the man's back and pulled his arms up behind his back.

"Oh Sherlock, I did always wonder which of us would be the dominant one," sighed Moriarty thoughtfully. Sherlock remained silent. "Oh don't be like that, I'm about to make our Game _so_ much more interesting". The detective frowned and loosened his grip on Moriarty's arms, waiting for him to continue. "I've placed a bomb in the building, it's set to go off in the next five minutes. Oh, you won't find it in time dear, but you do have a choice. Come with me right now, and we can live, and continue this little Game to our hearts content, or go back for the stupid pet of yours and die with him". The detective stood abruptly, his face unreadable. Moriarty too stood up, dusting off his suit, and glanced up at him, a small smirk growing on his face. "Come now Sherlock, I know you can't resist this Game of ours. And this way there won't be any distractions. Just you and me, the way it should be".

"No". A flash of anger and surprise crossed Moriarty's face.

"No?" Now it was Sherlock's turn to smirk.

"You think you're so clever, don't you. You think you know _everything_ there is to know about me. About how I think. You think I need you, the way you need me. But you're not the only criminal in London. There'll always be more cases. I don't need _you_." He grinned at the unadulterated look of shock on Moriarty's face.

"You're making a big mistake my dear".

"Oh I don't think so". Sherlock turned and ran back down the corridor, leaving Moriarty standing alone with pure loathing creeping into his face.

* * *

><p>As the detective ran back the way he had come, he became aware of pounding footsteps heading in his direction, and smiled. <em>Good old reliable John.<em> He rounded a corner and the man came into view.

"Sherlock!" he called in surprise. "Are you alright? Where's Moriar-".

"We'll worry about him later. There's a bomb in the building somewhere. We need to find it and disarm it".

"A what? Geez Sherlock. Well, how long have we got?"

"Approximately three minutes".

"Three-! Sherlock this place is _huge_! We'll never _find_ it in time, let alone _disarming_ it. Let's get the hell out of here before it blows".

"Nonsense John. Now, I need you to inform the Doctor of our current situation".

"And what are you going to do?" asked John, dreading the answer.

"Find the bomb, obviously. No, don't argue, there isn't time for that. Find the Doctor. You have approximately two minutes". John glared at Sherlock for a few seconds, looking completely torn, before shaking his head and racing back down the corridor, as Sherlock ran in the other direction in search of the bomb.

* * *

><p>Rory entered into the warehouse, closely followed by Jack. His gaze immediately landed upon Amy.<p>

"Amy!" he sighed, hugging his wife in relief. He stepped back and examined her face tenderly.

"Ow," she winced as his finger ran across her swollen cheek. He look past her and noticed the Doctor kneeling beside the creature.

"You killed it?"

"No, Moriarty did. All he wanted to do was go home...". The Doctor glanced up at Jack. "You found her?" Jack nodded. "Good. We'll take him with us. I told him I'd take him home. I _promised_-" he paused as he noticed the sound of running footsteps coming nearer. A few seconds later John burst into the room.

"What's wrong? What's happened?" frowned the Doctor, slowly getting to his feet.

"There's a bomb. Somewhere. Less than two minutes until it blows," panted John. He jumped as his phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket, and he quickly pulled it out and read the message aloud.

_First floor, east section. In a storage cupboard. 1:39. SH_

"Jack! How far is the TARDIS from here?"

"Not very far. Up those stairs and down the end of the corridor".

"Good. You lot take the Kelsyrite and get inside the TARDIS. I'm going to see if I can't stop that bomb," he stated, handing the TARDIS key over to Amy.

"And what if you can't stop it in time?" she asked. He stopped and glanced back at her over his shoulder.

"That's why I want you _inside_ the TARDIS," he replied quietly.

"Not a chance Doctor. If anything happens you won't be able to regenerate in time. I'll go," challenged Jack.

"I'm coming with you. I'm not leaving Sherlock," stated John firmly. Jack looked back at him to protest, but the words fell away when he saw the determination in the soldier's eyes.

"Alright, let's get a move on then, shall we!" said the Doctor, clapping his hands together. Together with Amy and Rory, he picked up the Kelsiryte and made for the stairs as Jack and John raced down the corridor.

* * *

><p>John couldn't help but notice just how much running he seemed to be doing lately. He and Jack made their way through the building until they found the room Sherlock was in. The detective was knelt down in front of a small capsule with ominous red numbers flashing on the front of it.<p>

_57, 56, 55_

"I've never seen anything like this," stated Sherlock, without turning around. "I don't think I can disarm it".

"You can't. No one can," said Jack quietly, moving towards the device and kneeling down. "It's got an Oblivion Continuum in its core. Once that timer starts, there's no way to stop it".

"And what's the blast radius?" asked John fearfully.

_43, 42, 41_

"The entire planet. Possibly even the Moon". Jack reached forward and picked up the device.

"What are you doing?" asked John in alarm, but Jack was already running. John and Sherlock exchanged a glance, and quickly followed after him.

* * *

><p><em>29, 28, 27<em>

As they followed Jack into the room where the TARDIS was, they couldn't help but notice what Jack seemed to have either completely missed or chosen to ignore.

"What happened to Moriarty?" asked John of no one in particular.

"He was in the way, and quite determined to get into the TARDIS, so Rory punched him out cold," stated Amy proudly, nudging the unconscious figure with her toe.

"Hey, nobody kidnaps my wife and gets away with it!"

"Rory the Roman, my hero," smiled Amy.

"Yes, it was very impressive Rory, didn't know you had it in you. Now, more importantly, what is _that_?" asked the Doctor, staring at the device in Jack's arms.

_14, 13, 12_

"Oblivion Continuum".

"Right, ok, that's not good. That's very not good. In. TARDIS. Now!" he yelled, ushering them all through the door. He pushed the door shut behind him and ran up the stairs to the control panel, where he proceeded to press buttons and turn dials, before throwing a large switch, which made the TARDIS lurch, knocking John off his feet (who had previously been starring open mouthed at the room, the words _It's bigger on the inside...how?_ echoing around his head). Sherlock managed to stay upright by grabbing hold of the safety rails by the door.

"Easy, Doctor!" yelled Jack reproachfully.

"Doctor, those numbers are getting smaller very quickly," warned Rory nervously.

_6, 5, 4_

"Sherlock, get the door! Now Jack, throw that thing on my mark," ordered the Doctor, manoeuvring the TARDIS into position. Jack pushed past the detective and stood by the door.

_3_

"Not yet!"

Sherlock pulled John to his feet and moved him further away from the door.

_2_

"Now!"

Jack hurled the device out the door and straight in the heart of an exploding star.

_1_

"Shut the door!" yelled the Doctor, as the bomb exploded. Jack slammed the door shut, as the shockwaves from the explosion threw the TARDIS further into space. The Doctor fought to regain control of the TARDIS as the other battled to stay upright. After a few minutes of turbulence the TARDIS became still.

"Everyone alright?" called the Doctor. He was answered with a few grunts and groans in the affirmative. Satisfied, he ran to the door and flung it opened.

"Doctor, what just happened?" Rory inquired, getting to his feet and rubbing the back of his head.

"The Oblivion Continuum has enough force to wipe out an entire planet. I needed to find somewhere safer to release that kind of power".

"And you decided a star about to supernova was a _safe place_?" queried Jack, raising an eyebrow.

"It was the best I could come up with on such short notice. The power of the bomb expanded the range of the supernova. You'll be able to see this all the way from Earth".

"Really? When?" grinned Amy excitedly.

"A bit before your time I'm afraid. 1858- we can go there if you'd like. I met this bloke there, Van Buren. Really keen on astronomy..."

John bit his lip in an attempt to stop himself from laughing as the Doctor prattled on to the others about the wonders of 1858.

"John," warned Sherlock.

"I didn't say anything," stated John, staring straight ahead. Sherlock glared at him, but said nothing more.

"Where to now?" asked Amy. The Doctor suddenly became very serious, and he walked back up to the controls.

" Kelsirydon. We're taking the Kelsiryte home".


	15. Chapter 15 Home

Chapter 15- Home

The TARDIS wheezed and whirred, and landed in the middle of what seemed like a tropical rainforest. Amy pulled open the door and stepped out, then jumped back into the TARDIS a few second later.

"It's so humid out there, I can't breathe!" she gasped.

"Kelsirydon. A sunny 45°C with 100% humidity every day," the Doctor informed her cheerfully.

"No wonder. You could have told me that _before_ I walked into a sauna dressed like this!"

A few minutes later, they all emerged from the TARDIS, changed into clothes more appropriate for the conditions. The Doctor took the lead, marching off in a seemingly random direction, with the others following close behind, Jack and John carrying the Kelsiryte between them on a stretcher. Due to the heat they had to take frequent breaks, and all took turns carrying the stretcher (except the Doctor, who kept waving his sonic screwdriver around and checking whatever readings he was getting). The thick canopy of the tall trees protected the group from being baked by the sun's rays.

After what seemed like hours of walking, the Doctor finally came to a halt at the bottom of a steep hill, and the others groaned inwardly at the prospect and having to climb up.

"Why couldn't you have parked the TARDIS closer?" grumbled Amy quietly. The Doctor frowned.

"Strange. I thought-"

Suddenly, holes appeared in the hillside, and ten Kelsirytes armed with modified bayonets leapt down and surrounded them.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor. Love what you've done with the place," beamed the Doctor, walking up to the leader of the group. However, the angry clicking sounds issuing from the creature convinced him to step back and put up his hands in surrender as the others had done. The leader began making low chirping noises to the other Kelsirytes.

"Doctor, what are they saying?" hissed Amy quietly.

"They're deciding whether to kill and eat us, or bring us to their leader," he replied calmly.

"Tell them we want to see their leader. I definitely do not want to be eaten," whispered Rory. The Doctor cleared his throat and took a small step forward, causing the Kelsirytes to cease their chattering and raise their weapons a little higher. He then began making bizarre clicking noises with his tongue, with a few squeaky whistles thrown in every now and then. When he finished, there was a moment of silence, before the leader began chirping at his second-in-command.

"What did you say to them?" whispered Amy.

"Either 'We mean you no harm, please let us speak with your leader' or 'Your grandmother's fruitcake is lovely'. I'm a little rusty," he admitted sheepishly. The leader clicked an order to the others, who promptly began marching the group forward into one of the holes from which they had appeared. The tunnels through which they walked were so dimly lit, they could scarcely see a metre in front of them. At last they came to an open cavern, which seemed to be a junction for the many tunnels honeycombing the hill. One of the openings on the far side of the cavern was guarded by two Kelsirytes. The leader stopped the group in the middle of the cavern, then went to speak to the two guards. He returned shortly thereafter and lead the group into the narrow tunnel. The guards stepped back to let the group pass, watching them suspiciously.

"You know, for a race that has intergalactic delivery services, this all seems a little low tech," commented Rory, receiving a hard shove in the back for his troubles from the Kelsiryte marching behind him.

"Well, this is the equivalent of a country town. You'd be highly unlikely to see skyscrapers and high-rise apartments in a country town. Those types of things belong in big cities, like London, which they have here. Well, not _here_ here but-"

"Doctor!" interrupted Amy. He looked around and realised they'd reached their destination. They had entered another cavern, smaller than the previous one, but only just. Guards were lined up against the walls leading to a platform at the far end where a Kelsiryte of obvious importance sat in a high-backed chair. Two more guards stood either side of him, and another Kelsiryte sat to the left of him in a smaller chair. Those who had escorted the group in took their places lined against the back wall by the entrance, while the leader stepped forward to the front of the platform, and with a slight incline of his head began chirping and clicking to the Kelsiryte who sat there.

"Who's that then?" whispered John.

"That would be the _Khelceralhord_, kind of like the mayor I suppose," replied the Doctor.

"And what are they saying?" urged Amy.

"Much the same as before. Wondering who we are, what we're doing here, whether they should just kill us here on the spot. Not many outsiders are allowed on Kelsirydon, have to fill out all kinds of paperwork to come here. They're a very private people; like to keep themselves to themselves. The big cities do trades with other worlds in special areas, but the smaller towns aren't too fond of strangers".

"And this didn't occur to you _before_ we brought one of their kin here on a stretcher?" quiried Sherlock wearily.

The Doctor didn't get the chance to answer, as the Khelceralhord motioned the group to step forward. The Doctor strode up to the platform, while the others shuffled forward cautiously, not liking the looks they were receiving from the guards. The Kelsiryte sitting beside the Khelceralhord stood up and addressed them.

"Greetings humans. What business do you have with us?" he asked in a husky voice.

"Right on to business? No 'Hello, pleased to meet you, how was your trip'? Ow-" the Doctor winced as Amy elbowed him in the side, then continued in a more serious tone, "Right then, onto business".

The Khelceralhord chirped briefly, and the Kelsiryte beside him translated. "My Lord wishes to know what gift you have brought before him".

"Not a gift I'm afraid. Rather, fulfilling a promise to someone". The translator conveyed this message to the Khelceralhord, who eyed the Doctor suspiciously. The latter stepped back, and Jack and John carefully placed the stretcher on the ground before the platform. John solemnly drew back the sheet he had covered the Kelsiryte's body with, and stepped back. The hall was immediately filled with a cacophony of loud clicks and chirps from the Kelsirytes in the room. Those who had led them in circled around them, weapons aimed most threateningly. The Doctor stepped forward towards the Khelceralhord, urging him to hear them out, but a minute later had been tackled to the ground by two guards. Amy cried out and tried to get to him, but their guides had cut the group off from him and were moving forward to restrain the others. Above all the commotion, a clear voice called out, "He saved us".

The Khelceralhord raised a hand and the Kelsirytes fell still, everyone turning to look at the man who had spoken.

"Step forward," ordered the Khelceralhord through the translator, and Sherlock did so. "Speak".

"This Kelsiryte was stranded on Earth, and captured by an evil man named Moriarty, who used him, and ordered him to kill us. He evidently did not, and so the Doctor promised to return him home. However, Moriarty had him killed for disobeying him. We owe this Kelsiryte our lives".

The Khelceralhord was silent for a moment, then stood up and stepped forward. The other Kelsirytes stepped back to the walls, and the Doctor stood up, straightening his bowtie.

"We thank you for returning our brethren to us, and will see that his body is returned to his family. In return I grant you leave of this planet. My guards will escort you to your ship, and you will not return here". He waved his hand dismissively, and the guards stepped forward. The party that led then into the hall proceeded to lead them back out the tunnels through which they had come.

When they arrived once more at the hillside, the party left them, save for the two guards who remained to escort them to their ship. The Doctor lead the way, with the guards bringing up the rear. No one dared stop to rest on the way back, despite the heat and weariness, for fear the Kelsirytes might change their minds and take it upon themselves to keep the party for lunch. When at last they reached the TARDIS, the group all but ran inside and collapsed on the floor, relieved to be in the cool safety of the blue box. The Doctor thanked their guards, then closed the doors, ran up to the controls and set a course for Earth.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry about the unexpected hiatus. Hope to have the next chapter up in a week or two<strong>

**~PBP**


	16. Chapter 16 Four

Chapter 16- Four 

The TARDIS landed back near the warehouse, just outside of the area taped off by police, who were going about their business seemingly without noticing the blue box or the occupants spilling out of it. Except for one man that is. He casually strolled over to the group, swinging his umbrella with each step.

"Mycroft, I'm impressed that you've come this far away from your little clubhouse," drawled Sherlock sarcastically.

"Well little brother, while you've been off gallivanting around the universe, I have had to clean up your mess," he replied condescendingly. "And before you ask, all the snipers and guards have been arrested, but Moriarty himself has managed to escape. Captain Harkness, a word if I may? In regards to Torchwood 4."

"There _isn't_ a Torchwood 4," replied Jack slowly.

"Funding for the reconstruction of the new Hub will be provided," he continued, as if Jack hadn't said anything. "Please do inform me of where you decide to base operations so I can ensure the public is... distracted".

"Hang on a minute, I haven't agreed to this yet. What about UNIT?".

"Yeah, isn't this sort of thing their area? It didn't seem to me like they were doing much at all throughout this investigation," interrupted the Doctor.

"I assure you that UNIT is currently being investigated, and that there are likely to be some... vacancies in the future. In the meantime, I need to know there's an organisation that I can rely on. Captain, I expect the files of your new team on my desk within the week". With a curt nod, Mycroft turned and strolled back to his car.

"Vacancies? More like UNIT is being fired, or possibly erased from existence, depending on his mood," mused Sherlock.

"Just quietly, your brother kind of scares me," added the Doctor. The others nodded in silent assent. "Anyway, I should get you lot home". They all made their way back into the TARDIS, except for Jack, who remained standing at the door.

"I'll be parting here, I'm afraid. I've got my work cut out for me it seems, better get started," he sighed.

"Good to see you again Jack," grinned the Doctor.

"Take care of yourself Doctor," replied Jack, saluting the Doctor, and throwing a cheeky wink in John's direction, before the Doctor closed the door and returned to the controls.

"Right then, 221B Baker Street," he announced, throwing a switch. The journey was not a long one, as seconds later they had landed outside the Baker Street apartment, and John and Sherlock exited the TARDIS.

"It was nice to meet you both," said Amy, hugging them each in turn.

"Good luck with that Moriarty creep," added Rory.

"Thanks. Good luck with, well, him," replied John, nodding towards the Doctor, who was already back at the console fiddling with the screen.

"Come along Ponds! Things to do, places to go!" he called impatiently.

"Alright, we're coming," called back Amy, smiling at the boys once more, before closing the door. John and Sherlock stood and watched as the TARDIS pulsed and faded into the night, before heading inside.

"Well, it's been a long case. I for one am going to bed, and I suggest you do the same Sherlock," said John, stifling a yawn as they climbed the stairs to the apartment. Sherlock unlocked the door, and walked into the living room, which was still strewn with newspaper clippings, files and case notes. John ignored the mess, mumbling goodnight to the detective and heading straight for his bedroom. Sherlock glanced around the room again, then decided that John had the right idea and made for his own bedroom.

* * *

><p>The next morning, after a well-deserved sleep in, John was sat on a couch in the living room sipping a cup of tea, as he <em>supervised<em> Sherlock to clean up all the papers, insisting that yes, being able to see the floor was a good thing, and that he expected the detective to have the living room usable by that evening, or else Mrs Hudson might have a thing or two to say to him. Seeing that Sherlock _was_ in fact in the process of cleaning, John took the opportunity to write a new blog entry. He opened up his laptop, ignoring the chuckle from his flatmate (what was so funny anyway?) and paused. Just _how_ was he going to write this one up?

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that's the end of this story. Maybe in the future I might bring the Doctor back for some more adventures, but for now that's it.<strong>

**Please tell me your thoughts, what you liked, what I could improve on, so I know what to work on for the next story (yes I am writing another story, similar direction to this, but with more detail and cases hopefully. We shall see)**

**Thanks again for reading**

**~PBP**


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